


Sunny's a Good Girl

by theunknownfate



Category: Watchmen
Genre: Dogs, Gen, Heroes, Kink Meme, Prompt Fill, timmy's in the well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:09:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunknownfate/pseuds/theunknownfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt on the kinkmeme: post-Keene Rorschach has his distaste for dogs challenged when a loyal pooch helps him save someone or solve a crime (i.e. won't leave him alone until he follows it to a hurt child or drags him out of a burning building).</p>
<p>As fluffy and sugar-candyesque as they come, por favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunny's a Good Girl

He saw it running around willy-nilly, a nondescript yellow mutt with one ear flopped over. It barked and bounced on its hind legs at the people going by, but no one paid any attention to it. It cast around and then spotted him. He was out in his mask, sign over his shoulder, as unnoticed in the crowd as the dog was, but somehow they had focused on each other.

_Don't you dare_ , he thought at it, but it was already bounding toward him. Its stupid tongue lolled out over teeth he couldn't help but see were small and sharp. They would clack on the surface of bones, slip a bit, then crunch in. He heard that sound over and over enough in his head to be sure of that. 

In just a few seconds it was in reach. He could bat it away with his sign. People would notice then. Their faces would twist and the voices would rise. They would rather have a flesh-eating animal in their houses than him, would let it lick their children's faces and fingers, and not even spare a thought for how easily the dimpled skin might rip or the little knuckles could be bitten through. 

There was blood on its neck and he went cold. It had just wrenched its way out of a collar, he told himself, feeling sick. It hadn't buried its face in cold meat. No blade had sunken into its skull. There was no warm splatter over his chest, soaking through his coat to his skin. 

He tensed for it to leap at him, but it slid to a stop at his feet. It didn't paw at him. It just whined. 

"I don't have food," he told it. The whine rose into a cry and it ducked around him to butt into the back of his legs. It was soaking wet. He took a step to get out of reach, but it danced around in front of him and barked. It ran a few steps and then turned to face him. It barked again.

He took a step closer and the whole performance was repeated. As much as he didn't want to give the beast any credit for sense, it was hard to disregard its insistence. After a few starts and a deliberate attempt to ignore it until it went away, he gave in and followed. It zipped ahead and then waited for him to catch up before taking off again. It had stopped barking now that he was going in the right direction. That would probably change as soon as he lingered too long. 

He wondered what it would do if he just went in the opposite direction, but its stubby tail was wagging now. He had to admit he was getting curious. If there was an empty bowl or dead raccoon at the end of this jaunt, he really was going to whack it with the sign. It led him straight to the river and a misgiving begin to prickle under his skin. A lot of things could go wrong by the water. 

This time, the dog didn't wait for him. It ran all the way down to the bank. Rorschach froze when he saw the collar. It lay on the gravel at the end of the chain, which led over the larger rocks out of sight. He broke into a run too, and hurdled the small barrier to land in ankle deep water. He almost landed on the hand still clutching the chain. 

The dog was crying in high little yips, nosing and nuzzling at the body of a teenage girl. He dropped to his knees beside her and fumbled for her throat. The pulse was there, but she was pale and battered. Get her out of the water, he thought, then call an ambulance. When he tried to lift her, he could only raise her upper body. Something had her legs pinned. 

He waded out farther and felt around until he found it and heaved it up. It was a bicycle, bent tight around one of the girl's legs. He cast around and saw the bridge a few hundred yards away. It was hard to tell from a distance, but one of the safety rails did look bent outwards.

_Hit and run_ , he guessed, tugging her leg free. She made a sound, probably because the leg was already broken. She must've been riding her bike across the bridge, her dog on a leash, running alongside. The impact had smashed the bike and knocked them both over the rail. Already unconscious from the impact, the bike would've dragged her down to the bottom if the dog hadn't pulled her all the way to shore. Too tired to haul her over the rocks with the bike still weighing her down, it had thrashed out of the collar and gone for help. 

"Stupid dog," he muttered, scooping her up. It just wagged its tail harder and sloshed out with him.


End file.
